Minerva Pardizo: Sanitary World
by Strawberriedanish
Summary: Minerva has managed to keep her nose clean for the past three years. That is, until she unwittingly helps a serial killer. Soon, she finds herself knee deep in a plot that may just destroy any good feelings between her and the fairies forever.


**A/N: So…haven't done this in a while. I took a break (doing nothing but work!), but now I'm back. With a new story. **

**This one's centered on Minerva. NO ARTEMIS. Just Minerva. And others. From what I've read she hasn't exactly been put in any good quality fics. I thought I'd give it a try (because I'm egotistical like that).**

_**--(skip over this part if you want to escape a pointless rant)--**_

**I'm also happy to say that a certain MARY SUE in a certain story is finally being recognized by a few certain someones. FINALLY! I can't believe people haven't been catching on sooner. I mean, she's so glaringly PERFECT; I wanted to gag when I read the author's depiction of her. I don't understand how so many people have read that story and haven't realized that CLEARLY the author has inserted them self into the story as this DISGUSTINGLY perfect character just to live out their fantasies. I mean, go ahead and insert yourself into a fanfic to live out your fantasies, but at least include some of your FLAWS! Think of the readers!**

_**--(I just needed to get that out…It's unhealthy to keep rage bottled up like that)-- **_

**I FINALLY UPDATED!! YOU BETTER READ IT!! (You know who you are…)**

Chapter I

Minerva's eyes slowly opened. Her body twisted through the silk bed sheets as she turned towards her nightstand. Almost six a.m. A predawn light spilled through the slit in the curtains of the teen's window, casting a gray light upon her floor.

She groaned and flipped away from the clock. Thirty minutes until she would force her body through her adjoining bathroom. Fifteen after that before she felt presentable enough to move downstairs. And precisely an hour and a half after _that_, she would drag her father from _his_ bed so he could drive her to her first lesson of the day. Followed by more lessons. And maybe lunch.

Oh the joys of self-imposed summer school. While other French sixteen year olds are trotting to the local bakery for a breakfast pastry, Minerva would be hidden away in Madame Defarge's art studio.

Yes, she wanted to spend her summer relaxing. And yes, taking hours of vigorous art and music classes isn't exactly relaxing. But she needed this. She had needed it every summer for the past three years.

All because of those fairies. If it wasn't for them, and how they took away her demon and how they took away her chance for a Nobel Prize and how—no. It was her stupidity. Her ignorance. _She _was the one who had stolen the demon from them. It was _her_ who had set in motion the events that led up to Artemis and Holly's disappearance.

Minerva rubbed her blonde curls. She knew it. And the LEP knew it too. The genius guessed they had better things to do than to play the blame game. Or else by now she would have been rotting away in fairy prison.

But that didn't stop her brilliant mind from obsessing over it every second of her free time. Guilt hurt. And it was human nature to avoid pain. Which is why she had needed a way to dull the pain. Enter: constant school.

Hey, if her mind was obsessing over painting fruit and strumming orchestral instruments she couldn't obsess over fairy people, right?

The clock alarm beeped, and Minerva's hand shot out to shut it off. Five beeps screeched out that time. Minerva sat up in bed. She needed to hit it faster next time. She hated the sound of an alarm clock more than anything else. Especially at six thirty in the morning.

One leg peeped out of the covers. Soon the second followed and Minerva dragged her body to the bathroom.

A warm shower and a good blow dry woke her up. She stood in front of the mirror, watching her toweled reflection gently brush through its golden curls.

Sometimes she wished she hadn't asked for the family to move from their old home to this townhouse in Paris. The old rooms were bigger. But then again, she realized it would be hard walking through those halls knowing what went down there.

Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva could see the bathroom's second door being opened.

Yawning as she walked, Minerva's tall bathroom buddy entered the room. With a short nod and a cheerful "Guten morgan", the girl bent over the second sink to wash her face.

This summer, Minerva had invited a German exchange student to live with her family and take several art classes. Rachele had been residing in the townhouse since last  
Wednesday. Yet another distraction to rid her of her painful guilt.

"How are you this morning Rachele?" Minerva slowly asked in French.

Rachele looked up from her towel and grinned. "I am very well. And you?"

"A little tired." Minerva replied.

The German girl brushed her teeth as Minerva patted on a touch of make-up. "We need to bring our pastel sets today." Minerva said. "Madame Defarge switched up the lesson plan this summer."

"Okay." Rachele answered. She quickly applied eyeliner and turned to leave. "I will get dressed and then make the breakfast. Meet you downstairs!"

"Al right." Minerva left the bathroom as well. If she had calculated it correctly, there was just two minutes to dress. The genius quickly threw on a loose t-shirt and pair of jeans. Dressing up was a favorite pastime of hers, but there really was no sense in wearing good clothes to an art studio.

During breakfast around the kitchen counter, Rachele talked excitedly in German. Minerva's mind was still foggy from sleep, and she didn't bother to remind her friend to practice conversing in French. She only sat there, scraping her fork against her plate.

"You know, we could have lunch in that cute café several blocks down from Madame Defarge's. I was reading about it my traveler's brochure, and it said they have the best sandwiches around!" Rachele gushed. Minerva smiled back at her.

The genius really did enjoy the other girl's company. She had only known Rachele for a week, but they had become fast friends. Which usually didn't happen to Minerva. Rachele wasn't a genius like herself, but they had bonded through art.

"Minerva! Why don't we walk today? I think your Papa should be allowed to sleep in on the first day of summer. And I want to see when the café opens. Can we do that?" Rachele asked as she bounced up to wash their dishes.

Minerva sighed, stretching her arms across the table. She too, rose to her feet. "Yes, let's walk. I feel the need to stretch my legs."

"And then you will be awake enough to talk with me." Rachele said, still speaking in German.

"Only if you speak in French."

"Deal."

88888888

The streets of Paris were always very crowded. On one street corner, balloon maker was surrounded by children begging for a balloon animal. Couples traded butterfly kisses over breakfast in the outdoor cafés. Teenagers dotted the shops and roamed the streets, basking in the glow of no school.

A beautiful scene. But as beautiful as it was, this picture had been tainted. Tainted, by the crumpled form peeking out from an alleyway.

A man in his twenties, he was long and lean in build. His pale fingers tried in vain to brush away the dirty blonde hair sticking to his forehead. The man's form shuddered with every breath as he mentally went over what had just happened.

The pent up frustration inside his chest, a gun glinting in the predawn light. He could still hear the terrified screams of his wife as he drew the gun and fired. He still smelled her blood on him.

Why had he done it? He was not normally a violent man. What had possessed him to kill the one person closest to him?

It was simple. She had found out. This morning she went through his things—thought he was cheating on her—and pulled it out.

The one thing that he didn't need _anyone_ to find out about. So he had to kill her.

The man shifted his position in the alley. Best to forget about it. She wasn't that special anyway. There were more important things to do now. Seeing it uncovered reminded him.

First off, he needed help. In desperation, he had jumped out of their second story window. And stupidly crashed into the fire escape. The man didn't think the long gash in his side was going to stop bleeding anytime soon. Or that the bump on his head was minor. He was already feeling light headed, and his eyesight was getting foggy.

Footsteps echoed behind him, and he wheeled around to face two girls, one tall and brunette, and the other short and golden blonde. The girls stopped as they noticed him staring.

The man sighed. Blood was still running down his fingers from where he held his side. Two girls, right in front of him. If they won't help him, then no one will.

He reached out a hand towards the blonde girl. "P-please help."

His body lurched forward, and then his vision went black.

88888888

Minerva just stared, wide-eyed and shocked, at the man in front of her. His slim hand rested on her ankle, unmoving.

Rachele bent towards the crumpled form and gently lifted up his head. She turned to Minerva, speaking in German. "I can still feel his breath. What should we do?"

The girl genius lowered herself to her knees. "We have to help him."

**A/N: Getting back into writing is harder than it may seem. Please review. : )**


End file.
